


The Void

by Wordsinrain



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsinrain/pseuds/Wordsinrain
Summary: Post DAI but pre- trespasser - solavellan hell angst.Lavellan is drinking in a tavern trying to forget Solas in the arms of another man.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Original Male Character(s), Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Kudos: 5





	The Void

**Author's Note:**

> I had an urge to just angst
> 
> Loosly inspired by 'the Void' by Darren Hayes.

Lavellan was in a tavern located in the far reaches of the hinterlands. One of the few places left in Thedas that didn’t recognise her on sight. The tavern had seen better days; it had taken a hard hit during the breach. The whole area had been evacuated and people had only returned after it was sealed. There were beams from the ceiling which were now on the floor and there was a large hole in the corner that was letting in a fair amount of wind and cold from the outside. There was a fire lit but it didn’t do a great job competing with the outside. 

Despite the building verging on collapse the tavern was relatively full. She was able to sit at her table and drink in peace just listening to the crackle of the fire and people gossiping. She necked the elven liquor in front of her and waved for a new one to be brought over. It was funny she thought, that humans didn’t seem to have a problem with elven liquor. Dorian had told her that even the Magisters had partaken of the herby alcohol in Tevinter. 

The drink was placed in front of her and she passed the man her coin. Her eyes caught a peculiar stain on the floor. It didn’t take much for her to realise it was blood. She thought of the demons passing through here, the templars and mages, the inquisition, trampling over the village like an avalanche. The number of deaths in this place alone was staggering. It played across her mind like a vision from the Fade. There were endless screams and bodies on the floor, blood and limbs flying out. She saw herself standing in the middle of the carnage frozen in place with no one left to fight. People were cut down in front of her and she couldn’t react. Her heart was vibrating against her chest as sweat dripped down her temples and her back. The noises in her head kept getting louder. 

The was a loud thump, and it wasn’t until she saw some of the people staring did she notice that her dagger was in the table and she was on her feet. She sat back down and threw the drink down her neck. After a few moments the other drinkers turned back to what they were doing, she heard someone say something about knife-ears. She forced her breaths to lengthen and rubbed her temple with her hand. In her past there had been other hands to do this, cool long fingers on her head and neck. A voice whispering things into her ear that this wasn’t all on her, that she couldn’t have stopped this, and that what she did do had saved so much more. That voice was gone. 

‘What did the table ever do to you?’ 

Lavellan looked up, a human man stood next to her table all height and muscles, the closest a human could get to a qunari. ‘Wrong place wrong time.’ 

‘Want company?’ He asked with a grin. 

Want? Lavellan hadn’t thought about want in a very long time. The things she wanted were impossible even for the Inquisitor. But this she could have, and if she kept trying maybe she could forget lean elven limbs in amongst human muscles. 

‘Sure,’ she gestured for him to sit and he ordered more drinks.

‘So Inquisitor what are you doing all the way out here?’ he asked.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed and then added. ‘Trying not to be the Inquisitor.’ 

The man leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest and his chin tilted up at her, she felt like she was being appraised like livestock. 

The innkeeper arrived with the drinks. 

‘You’ve picked a good spot for it, no one hear knows what day of the week it is never mind who you are,’ he said with a laugh. 

Lavellan thought of what Sera might have said to such a remark. Even He would not have said that, at least not without lamenting the history that had led them up to this point. But she was not here to find someone she agreed politics with, or even who she liked.

She sipped at the ale he had bought. He must have been watching her for a while to know she was the Inquisitor so he’d known what she had been drinking, cocky bastard. She didn’t need to be Cole to read this guy’s mind. It was clear how she looked to him, the tiny elf inquisitor. Now he wanted to prove his way by dominating her. She bet he was even wondering how the hell she had managed it, and he’d be blaming it all on the anchor. Maybe he was right.

‘You’re quiet,’ he said. 

‘Just admiring the view,’ she lied. Though he wasn’t bad to look at it, in fact if this had been before the conclave, before everything else, then she’d have thought he was attractive. She probably would’ve have genuinely flirted. Now she knew how he looked in a sort of abstract way, she knew he was objectively hot, but it didn’t reach her. She wondered if she tried enough times whether or not the spark would reconnect. 

‘You seem to be going heavy on the drink, rough night?’ He asked. She raised an eyebrow, was this really his technique. 

She smiled, ‘don’t worry about me, I’ve gotten good at this.’ She drank the ale in one and placed it down in front of him. Dorian’s voice was in her ear telling her to slow down or the morning wouldn’t be pretty. Leliana’s concern she was doing this again. Iron Bull reminding her he wasn’t there to carry her home this time if she couldn’t walk. She ignored the voices. 

The man smirked and ordered another round.

‘Ale again?’ She asked. 

‘Yeah none of that pansy elven stuff you had.’ 

‘What’s so pansy about it?’ 

‘Well I just always see elves as being feminine, you’re all dainty and such,’ he said. She laughed under her breath. Her mind flashed to back muscles corded as they swung a staff, those same muscles under her hands as she dug her nails in. 

‘Sure,’ she said. 

‘Why are you trying to hide?’ he asked. 

‘How about you tell me your name first?’ She countered. 

‘It’s William,’ he said. She didn’t know why she bothered asking, she would forget it in the morning, or if not in the morning, in three days from now when she was in her next tavern. She would have to go to Val Royeux eventually, Cassandra needed to see her about something or other. She would take her time getting there. 

‘Well you already know mine,’ she said with a shrug. ‘How did you know it was me?’ 

‘I was a Templar,’ he said. She rose her eyebrows. 

‘Whose side were you on?’ She asked gripping the handle on her dagger. 

‘Does it matter now?’ He said. ‘We all just followed orders.’ 

‘I never did,’ she said. People had followed _her_ orders. 

‘Really? Then how was it you were at the conclave where you got your green glowing hand,’ he said. 

‘Fair point,’ she replied loosening her grip. If he wanted to kill her, well she couldn’t even say whether she would put up much of a fight at this point. She was just so tired. 

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said. She laughed loudly and he looked startled. 

‘I know,’ she said letting go of the knife. ‘Bad habit.’ 

He was frowning at her, and she realised he wanted her to be a little scared of him. 

‘Which battles were you in?’ She asked. She didn’t care. 

He shrugged, ‘here and there.’ She knew for certain then that he’d fought the inquisition. It didn’t really change anything for her. It was all over now anyway. 

‘So, hiding?’ He pushed. 

‘It gets old,’ she said. ‘Everyone knowing who you are, everyone judging each movement.’ 

‘Does it now,’ he said. ‘You just want to drink your sorrows in peace.’ 

‘What makes you say I am drinking my sorrows?’ She asked.

‘You’re sat alone drinking your own body weight. Something tells me you wouldn’t be short of drinking companions if you asked which means you wanted to drink alone. People only want to drink alone in taverns when they are miserable.’ 

‘Oh so now I’ve gone from having sorrows to being outright miserable, is this your usual way of trying to seduce women or am I just lucky?’ 

He laughed, ‘you asked. Am I wrong?’ 

She took a long gulp of her ale, ‘no.’

‘You won the big fight, you saved the world, shouldn’t you be ecstatic.’

‘I saved the world, but I lost too many people in the process,’ she said. 

William narrowed his eyes at her, but that’s all she was giving him. She wasn’t here to talk and the world was starting to get it’s nice fuzzy edge. The ale was peace in a glass. She finished it off. 

‘Well I have a room upstairs,’ she said standing and ignoring the tilt of the world. ‘Want to join me?’ 

He was on his feet grinning like a demon, like Corypheus. She grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs with her anyway. 

The rest followed in a blur of limbs and groans. He pushed her against the wall, and she closed her eyes trying to ignore the images of someone else pushing her against the wall. _Vehnan_.

She screwed her eyes tighter forcing the thoughts away and focusing on the man who was kissing her. His hands were all over her and she let her hands lie to him in return. She made herself moan and whisper to him, going through the motions fuelled by all the alcohol in her system. There wasn’t enough, there was never enough to blot out her thoughts. 

William was rough and unforgiving with her and she didn’t care, she wanted that, wanted the pain. The new bruises would form on her hips covering the parts of her that had already been stained. She pushed back at him forcing him to go harder, be rougher. She wanted to break apart. 

When he was finished he rolled off her.

‘By Andraste,’ he gasped. He was a poor pathetic bastard if he was impressed by whatever the hell had just happened between then. She lied in return anyway. She felt like she’d been hollowed out by her own daggers, she could feel the scars she was carving onto her bones. 

He got up; she was grateful he wasn’t planning to stay. He said something that she didn’t listen to as he left. She reached for the wine she’d left in the room and kept drinking, her body a raw open wound. Eventually she she lay back down staring at the tilting ceiling as tears left the corners of her eyes and fell onto the pillow. She could’ve sworn she heard a wolf hollowing.

**Author's Note:**

> At the moment this is a one-shot, but it may later become a series depending on time and inspiration.


End file.
